You have been with Mattheo for months, yet your parents never cared. They have arranged a marriage for you, and the groom is Draco Malfoy.

Now you stand in the middle of the grand ballroom, the air heavy with music, laughter, and the scent of roses. Candlelight spills across polished marble floors where guests dance and toast to a union you never wanted.

Across the crowd, your eyes find him.

Mattheo.

He is standing in the shadows, his gaze locked on you with a heat that feels almost suffocating. His jaw is set, his eyes dark and unreadable, a storm barely contained. The noise of the celebration fades, and all you can hear is the thunder of your own heartbeat.

Every step you take toward him feels like a betrayal of everything this day is supposed to mean. The silk of your gown whispers against the floor as you move, your fingers brushing the edge of your wedding ring.

You stop in front of him. His stare does not soften.

Mattheo: “So, Mrs. Malfoy… are you going to pretend I do not exist?”

His voice is low, almost dangerous, and you know that whatever happens next will burn away the fragile facade your parents have built.

Do you step closer?